The One, The Only, And The Best
by Jed Rhodes
Summary: I'm the Doctor, simply the Doctor! The One, the Only, and the Best!" The Doctor. Who is he? What were his deeds? This is his tale, from beginning, to the beginning of the end... spoilers fpr the Next Doctor. Really, if you haven't seen it, don't read.
1. Birth

Jackson Lake was dying… he knew he was dying. His wife was lying dead, right there in front of him, murdered by those… metal things… it was the end, he wanted to die, so it was only right tat now, here, he was going to die… because that, above all other things, was what he wanted now.

And it was only right that those things died with him. He'd murdered them, using a thing, that shot lightening out of itself, killed them, left them screaming, good, that they die in agony...

He was dying. That was enough. Oh God, it felt like the worst thing in the world… and so many words were running through his head…

_It's reassuring to know my future is in safe hands…_

Something else. New words, things that made… some sense, though not much.

_Renewed? Have I? Yes that's right… I've been renewed._

Renewed, made better. Who was he? He was… someone. Words rang through his head, unfamiliar, yet familiar… who was he?

_Well he's not so much one of them as one of us. One of __me__ to be precise._

Something was wrong. He knew something was wrong. Who were those metal men…? A name kept coming out of his head. Who were they…?

_You've got no home planet, no influence, nothing! You're just a pathetic bunch of tin soldiers skulking about the galaxy in an ancient spaceship!_

He was… there was a name. A name. Who was he? What…? Wait… someone was speaking. Him…

_That could blow a hole in the space time continuum, the size of... well actually, the exact size of Belgium. That's a bit undramatic, isn't it? "Belgium"?_

Yes, it was rather. It was very undramatic. Drama… was that his life? Was he an actor…?

_Suffice it to say that I… am known, as the Doctor. I'm also a Time Lord, from the planet Gallifrey, in the constellation of Kasterbourous._

Was that him? The Doctor? Time Lord… Gallifrey… yes, that was him… wasn't it? There was certainly no one else he wanted to be. Yes, I must be the Doctor. The Doctor… but what do I do? What is it the Doctor does…?

_There are worlds out there where __the sky is burning, and the seas asleep, and the rivers dream; people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice, somewhere else the tea's getting cold. Come on. We've got work to do._

Yes… work to do. He had work to do. Stop the… the Cybermen! The Cybermen! Yes! He as the Doctor, he was a Time Lord, and he had to stop the Cybermen! Yes!

_I know who I am!_

And this time he yelled.

"I… am… the Doctor!"

He stood up, and smiled, because that was who he was. He knew who he was… but what were the Cybermen?

_An old friend of mine. Well, enemy. The stuff of nightmares reduced to an exhibit. I'm gettin' old._

Yes. Ony they weren't exhibits here, were they? Very odd. Still, as he stood up, he decided to think for a moment about it – but then, one final set of words ran through his head.

_But it's a bit dodgy, this process. You never know what you're gonna end up with… See, Time Lords have this little trick, it's sort of a way of cheating death. Except.... it means I'm gonna change…_

He put a hand to his face, and felt it. It felt familiar, yet not familiar. He looked around, trying to find a mirror. He needed to find something, something to…

A window. He looked at then reflection. He looked at the reflection long and hard, rubbing his nose.

"Not too bad," he said. "Not as good as it could be but hardly the worst face in history."

He smiled at it, then frowned at the simple, plain suit he wore.

"Oh come on," he said. "Come on. There has to be a better set of clothes than that."

He looked around, surrounded as he was by luggage. He raised an eyebrow. Was it his? Probably. He thought long and hard about it, then decided to rummage through his pockets – money. Yes, he needed something. Accommodation. Better clothes. And the TARDIS.

What was a TARDIS?

TARDIS.

Yes, he needed that. Right. TARDIS. He looked in a corner, at the body of a woman. Vaguely, he recognised it. Then he stopped. No. It would do no good. Path not taken and all that.

He sighed, and looked at himself in the window again.

"The Doctor," he muttered. "Simply, the Doctor."

Then he smiled softly.

"The one, the only, and the best."


	2. Rosita

He looked himself up and down. The Doctor, dressed in a bright waistcoat, dark trousers and long frock coat. He had several variations of the same look, and was quite happy with it.

He looked around at the place he was – for now – calling home.

It was nice. Small, and all that, but… nice.

"Well," he murmured. "Nice."

So what did he need?

Sonic screwdriver. What on Earth was one of those? He was supposed to know – he knew he was supposed to know a lot of things. But he didn't. A sonic screwdriver though, would be pretty easy. A screwdriver that made noise. He picked up a screwdriver from one of the suitcases he had had moved. They were the property of a Mr Jackson Lake. The first victim of the Cybermen. He had gone through a couple of suitcases, finding nothing of value save a nice coat and a few watches, several of which was broken. Nothing else.

TARDIS.

After labouring long and hard, he had decided that TARDIS must be some sort of craft. A must be Aerial. Anything Aerial must be a balloon. What was a balloon? Tethered. Released to fly. Tethered Aerial Release – and it would be Designed In Style! TARDIS! Perfect!

So how did one do that?

He got together a few papers, and wrote furiously. Ideas were coming to him in great swathes. Thoughts that seemed to swamp him. Perfect. He liked it. Thinking was something that he loved doing, but not when it was inner thought. He thought outwards, about Cybermen. About stopping them.

Never inwards.

He knew he'd lost a lot in that first battle. But what had he lost? He kept thinking to himself, what, what, what had he lost…?

Bah, it didn't matter. He had a TARDIS to build.

--

**The Ostermans Wharf.**

She was waiting. Someone had promised to meet her – Jimmy Thomson, a nice young man. Worked as an accountant for a small company that made timber furniture.

She thought, perhaps, that it might lead to something. Something, but she didn't know what. Not that it mattered now, he wasn't coming… but then she saw something. A man, in the shadows. Tall. Wasn't jimmy, he was only five foot something.

"Who's there?" Rosita called out. "Jimmy?"

The thing marched out. Tall, silver. A man made of metal. That was… that was impossible. Wasn't it?

"You are not Cyberform," it said. It raised its arm, a smaller silver tube flicking out of it's arm. "You must be deleted."

"Hey, hold on," Rosita said. "Who are you, what…?"

"I am a Cyberman," it said, and it aimed the arm at it. "You will be deleted."

The tube flared, and Rosita ducked, as a bolt of red light tried to hit her – it blew a barrel to kingdom come, and she screamed, before running.

--

The Doctor looked up.

Someone was screaming. now, he might be a little low on memories, but he knew just who he was, and what he did when he heard screaming.

He ran to help.

--

Rosita ran, and tried desperately to find something. Something to fight that thing. What? What, what, what, what…

"Hello," a man smiled at her. He was older, nice looking, brown hair, blue eyes. Blue waistcoat, black coat, black trousers, white shirt. "Were you the one screaming?"

"Look," Rosita said quickly. "There's a silver man, tall, he's shooting lightening out at me, he wants to 'delete' me…"

The man was nodding, but looking over her shoulder. The silver man was back. The man stood up, looking the creature dead in the eye.

"Hello," he said to it. "You look familiar. In fact, you look like a Mark Two Cybus Industries Model Cyberman, unless I am very much mistaken. Very interesting."

"Identify yourself," the creature said, its voice flat monotone.

"Oh, I'm the Doctor," he smiled. "Simply the Doctor. The one, the only, and the best!"

His smile suddenly dropped from his face like a stone from a great height.

"You should not be here," he said. "You, girl, who are you?"

"Rosita," Rosita said.

"Well, Rosita," the Doctor said, "might I suggest you run very quickly?"

"Incorrect, you will both be deleted," the Cyberman said.

"No," the Doctor snapped. "You will never kill again, not while the Doctor lives. Not while _I_ live."

"You are not the Doctor," the Cyberman said.

"I think," the Doctor smiled, "you'll find I am."

The Cyberman marched up to him, until they were face to face.

"You do not match physical appearance of the Doctor," the Cyberman said.

"Regeneration," the Doctor said. "I think. Memories, you know."

He grinned, and then jumped back, as the Cyberman tried to grab him.

"Ooh, that was naughty," he said. "I wouldn't try that again, my friend."

"Prepare to be deleted," the Cyberman said. The Doctor smiled at the Cyberman, then ran down an alleyway. Then, somehow, the woman Rosita was next to him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her as they ran.

"Watching you with that thing," Rosita smiled.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I want to know what that thing is!" she said.

The Doctor sighed, then stopped, and turned.

"Watch this," he said, and he quickly pulled a string..

They turned, and the Cyberman walked towards them, and then, somehow, a great big brick landed on the creatures head, smashing it in. Then another landed, then a whole large number of them, all landing on the creature and crushing its head.

"Marvellous," the Doctor smiled, and ran over to it. He quickly peered over the wreckage, poking it. "Brilliant."

"What is that?" Rosita asked.

"Cyberman," the Doctor said. "Creature from another world."

"Another world?" Rosita repeated, disbelievingly. "Pull the other one."

"No," the Doctor snapped. "What other explanation could there be, woman? A creature made of metal that seeks to kill women with lightening! Tell me what that is, if it isn't a creature from another world?"

Rosita had no answer for that, and slowly looked at the thing. He was right. What was it, if not a thing from another world?

"And who are you?" Rosita asked him.

"The Doctor," the Doctor said. "The man who's going to stop them."


	3. The Quiet Dead

The Doctor took her to his home. A small barn-esque place, with a bed with sheets but no mattress. Luggage scattered around. Coat hung up. Designs for a 'TARDIS', whatever that was.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I told you, I'm the Doctor," he said.

"Well come one, where's the rest of it?" she asked. "Christian name, surname…"

"I have neither," he said truthfully. "Merely 'the Doctor'. I know I had a name, but I don't remember it. Just one more thing to thank the Cybermen for."

"So what are those Cybermen things?" she asked him, sensing he had no wish to talk about himself.

"Creatures from another planet," the Doctor said to her. "A world so very like our own. But they grew afraid of that one great constant, Death, and tried to cheat it – only to sell their souls to the devil. Now they are men of steel, their souls gone."

"Sounds terrible," Rosita said. "But what are they doing in London?"

The Doctor looked incredibly thoughtful for a long moment.

"I imagine," he said after a time, "that they are seeking to conquer our world and make it ike their own. A world of metal. Steel cities, steel people. They have already murdered many people. A Mr Jackson Lake. Miss Arietta Longsworth. Mr James Thomson…"

"Jimmy?!" Rosita cried.

"Yes," the Doctor said, looking carefully at her face. "You knew him?"

"Yes," she sobbed. "Oh God, I don't believe it… he was… he was…"

"A friend," he finished. "I am so sorry. But you live on. Take some comfort, in that soon, I will stop them."

"How?" Rosita asked. "How can you stop them?"

"I do not know," the Doctor admitted truthfully. "They are a truly deadly foe, implacable, nigh on unstoppable. No weapon of this age can harm them."

"But… that's terrible!" Rosita exclaimed. "If you can't stop them

The Doctor glared at her.

"I will find a way, as I always do," he said. "But you, my dear, should go home." His expression softened. "Go. Rest. Forget all about Cybermen and monsters of steel. I will keep London safe, I promise."

Rosita looked about to argue, so the Doctor cut her off. "Too many have died. The friend you meant to meet. The man, Jackson Lake. The woman, Arietta Longsworth. Even…"

He stopped, and his eyes filled with tears.

"Even…"

He couldn't say it. But somehow, Rosita could tell that some terrible pain filled his life. Then he looked up, and for one moment, she could tell, some terrible memory was flashing before his eyes.

--

The nightmare, whether within sleep or within his waking hours, was always the same. Violent hatred – Cybermen. Then, a great world, a great city, his home…? Orange sky, silver citadel, and a great war that burnt the night… and always the sense that he had lost something, and that something had been taken from him.

And then, the girl Rosita was talking to him.

"Doctor…? Doctor…?"

He looked up at her, and smiled.

"Just nightmares," he smiled. "I am after all a Time Lord. Life is, for me…"

"A Time Lord?" Rosita asked.

"Well," the Doctor said. "That is the technical term."

"You aren't… human?" Rosita asked.

"In all honesty… no," the Doctor smiled. "Sorry."

Rosita looked at him in amazement. He was so human in appearance, yet obviously he wasn't. Amazing.

"Please sir," she said to him. "Let me help you fight these Cybermen. They killed Jimmy and… well, I want to fight 'em. Stop 'em."

The Doctor looked at her in sympathy. She was so young, too young to shoulder the burdens that were being thrust upon her.

Wasn't that so much like him?

"You work for your keep," he said. "You help me stop the Cybermen."

"That's what I'm here for," she smiled.

--

The next morning, the Doctor took Rosita with him to the scene of a horrendous crime.

"This is the scene of the murder of another person, a Mr Andrew Carrigan," he told her. "Died sometime last night if my contact is to be believed.

"You contact?"

Police Constable Weatherfield," the Doctor said. "Personable chap, but very susceptible to bribery. He provided me with adequate papers – I am Doctor Richard Bowman, consultant of the medical profession."

"And who am I?" Rosita asked.

"My plucky young assistant," the Doctor said, before walking up to the Police Constable in charge of the investigation.

"Constable," he nodded. The man looked up. "I am Doctor Bowman. I trust you have been informed of my presence being requested?"

"Yeah," the Copper said. "Look, it's a weird one, you'll probably not get it anymore than we do."

"Try me," the Doctor smiled. The Copper looked at him, then at Rosita.

"'Oo's she?" the Copper asked.

"Rosita, my plucky young companion," the Doctor explained. The Copper looked her over, then leered.

"Wouldn't mind her company meself," he said, prompting Rosita to glare at him and the Doctor to clear his throat, and indicate the way to the body. The Copper sighed, and led them on.

"'E died sometime in the night, as you've 'eard," the Copper began. "All we found was burns on his shoulder."

"Nothing else?" the Doctor enquired.

"Nope," the Copper confirmed. "We thought 'e'd just dropped down dead, 'til we saw 'is face…"

As they came up to it, the Doctors eyes widened, and he motioned for Rosita to stand back.

"Get my friend away from this," he said. The Copper nodded, all duty again, and moved Rosita back so she couldn't see the face.

Terror had widened his eyes, and his mouth was open in a terrible grimace of pain. The Doctor opened his shirt, and studied the burns. The injuries themselves were unfamiliar, but he recognised the fist mark easily. He stood up and spoke to the Policeman.

"Thank you Constable," he said. "You've been most helpful."

Then without another word, he walked over to Rosita, and led her away.

"Cybermen?" she asked.

"Oh yes," he said. "Yes absolutely."


	4. Allonsy!

"I don't understand, sir," Rosita said. "What happened to that man? Was it the Cybermen's lightening?"

"I don't think so," the Doctor replied, slowly, thoughtfully. "I really don't think so. It would have not been so focused on his shoulder if it were the lightening - oh, come on, brain…!"

He tapped his finger against his head, and looked as though he was deep in thought. Then, suddenly, he snapped his fingers, and smiled.

"I've got it!" he said. "That Cyberman I saved you from – he meant to grab me, did he not?"

Rosita thought back, and nodded, and the Doctor smiled.

"Yes!" he said. "The Cybermen shoot lightening from their arms, do they not?"

"Yes," Rosita said.

"Well then," the Doctor smiled. "Obviously, the creature creates the lightening within himself – electricity is conducted by metal…"

"And Cybermen are made of it!" Rosita said.

"Exactly!" the Doctor smiled. "Now then, that would mean that the Cybermen murder those people using their hands, electrocuting them. It would certainly be more surreptitious then using that lightening, they wouldn't want to attract the attention of the military, no matter how much more powerful they are. Now let me think…"

Rosita watched the great man contemplate, practically stone still, as his brilliant mind tried to grapple with the problem before it. It was a great privilege, she thought to herself, to get to witness this process.

"It seems to me," he said after a moment, "that there is a particular creature involved, a particular Cyberman."

"How so, sir?" Rosita asked.

"They are creatures of intellect and logic, Rosita," the Doctor pointed out. "Creatures without souls. They think in terms of logic, tactics, and in such terms, given the power of a single Cyberman, they would not waste more than a single Cyberman on Londns populous, because only a single Cyberman would suffice. What we need to do is destroy that single Cyberman."

"Why sir?" Rosita asked.

"Because with that Cyberman gone, they would be forced to come out in force," the Doctor smiled, the idea now reaching its peak. "And in doing so, it would be far easier for the authorities to notice them. They may be powerful, these Cybermen, but put them up against a brigade of England's finest, and we shall see who is victorious!"

He got to his feet.

"Come on, Rosita!" he said. "We must set several traps, then lure the creature out."

"What sort of traps, Doctor?" Rosita asked.

"Leave that to me!" the Doctor said. "We'll need rope, and anvils, and…"

And so planning, they went into the night.

--

One week later.

Rosita sighed, as the Doctor inspected the complicated system of pulleys he had set up. For the past week, they had been working towards the goal of finding and destroying more Cybermen. Rosita looked at the paper she had bought with the money the Doctor had been paying her.

"Doctor," she called, but he ignored her. "Doctor!"

"Yes, what is it Rosita?" he said, clearly irritated by her interruption.

"Look at this," she said. "'The Reverend Aubrey Fairchild, found dead in his home from strange burns to his forehead, to be buried in one week at two o'clock'."

She looked at the Doctor, who was nodding thoughtfully.

"Yes… you think it may be the work of the Cybermen?" he asked.

"Why not?" Rosita queried right back. "It's not like they can only grab people's shoulders. They must have fried his brain…"

"Quite possible," the Doctor theorised. "Very possible. Yes, that is a possibility. Aubrey Fairchild?"

"That's what it says," Rosita said, giving him the paper. He read it thoughtfully, then made a decision.

"At two o'clock, I shall investigate the house and see if there is anything there linking the reverend to the Cybermen," he decreed.

"What do you mean, you'll investigate?" Rosita said, annoyed. "What happened to the we?"

"We will investigate," the Doctor said. "I've been on the Cybermens' trail for the past three weeks, and I know that they are a deadly foe. It would be better for me to investigate it alone."

Rosita said nothing. It was often best not to argue with the Doctor on these point. His wit was such that any argument against him often failed miserably.

"So will these traps work?" Rosita asked, changing the subject.

"If a Cyberman blunders into them, they'll be destroyed," the Doctor promised. "They're foolproof."

"If, a Cyberman blunders into it," Rosita pointed out. He grinned at her and beeped her nose.

"Oh ye of little faith," he smiled, and he walked off, leaving her to follow and tut at him.

--

One week later.

The Doctor had checked every trap for the past six days, but now, today, they were getting close. A Cyberman, he could feel it.

Rosita was the bait. She waited in an alley for the creature – when it got out, she would call for help and the Doctor would come to aid her, and destroy the beast. She would be safe, he had given her his trusted Sonic Screwdriver.

He moved to check his watch, but then he remembered that it was broken, so he left it alone. A broken watch. Why on Earth did he carry a broken watch?

"Doctor!" came the call, and he looked up. It couldn't have accosted her already?

"Doctor!" the cry came again, and this time, he was on his feet, running, running towards danger, towards intrigue, towards what was his destiny. Time Lord. One, Only, Best. Hero. why shouldn't he always be like that?

He came to the alley, and saw Rosita with another gentleman – someone come to gallantly rescue her, no doubt. There were few such men, and seeing one come to a pleading womans aid cheered the Doctors heart. A door was pounding – silly Rosita had panicked, but he supposed he couldn't blame her – he could hear the noises from here. No Cyberman he had seen made such noise…

"Right then!" he called as he reached them. "Don't worry. Stand back. What have we got here then?"

He knew, but he felt like saying it.

"Hold on, who are you?" the man asked. The Doctor grinned, and turned.

"I'm the Doctor!" he proclaimed. "Simply the Doctor! The one, the only, and the best!"

He ignored Rosita rolling her eyes, and held out his hand.

"Rosita, give me the Sonic Screwdriver," he ordered her. She handed him it, and he indicated the way he had come. The man looked at it in puzzlement.

"Now quickly," he said. "Get back to the TARDIS."

"The what?" the man asked.

"If you could stand back sir," the Doctor told him, "this is a job for a Time Lord." He smiled, hoping to reassure this gentleman. The man didn't take the hint, and instead leaned in.

"Job for a what lord?" he asked. Then, before the Doctor could tell him to go away, the door burst open, and the creature appeared. Rusted metal, fur coat.

"Oh, that's new," he commented with a smile. Then, holding his Sonic Screwdriver in front of him, every inch the hero, he bellowed his war cry, just as this other man did the same;

"Allonsy!"


End file.
